


Son of the Sea

by cheshirecat101



Series: Tumblr Prompts [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Folklore, M/M, Mythology References, Pining Derek, Prompt Fill, Scenting, Selkie Stiles Stilinski, Selkies, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:03:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecat101/pseuds/cheshirecat101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek knows for sure that Stiles isn't human. The problem starts when he finds out what he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of the Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Сын моря](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146189) by [madchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madchester/pseuds/madchester)



> Another prompt fill! I'm trying to get as many done as I can, honestly, haha. (And I've been looking for an excuse to write about selkies for forever, honestly.) Hope you enjoy! And if you want to, you can prompt me yourself [here](http://disassociatedtinman.tumblr.com/).

Derek knew that Stiles wasn’t human from the first time that he met him. He couldn’t be, considering the way that he smelled. It wasn’t…normal. Not human, not like the rest of the population smelled. At first it was subtle, hard to notice, but when he did, he found an opportunity to get closer, scent him properly. 

Salt water. Seaweed. Bleached driftwood and dark sands. An ocean breeze that was more refreshing than anything, but stung Derek’s sensitive nose with the amount of salt in it. Stiles smelled cold, like the sea on a stormy day, and didn’t have the typical warm, almost welcoming scent that most humans had when they were relaxed. When Stiles was relaxed around Derek–which didn’t happen until much later in their acquaintance–he smelled like the sun and the sand, welcoming in its own way, but not in the way of humans.

The funny thing was, his father smelled human. Entirely, one hundred percent normal person, and that was what confused Derek. What was Stiles then? What could he be that wasn’t a werewolf or a were-anything, or a kanima or anything else turned by a bite? Or maybe he was turned by a bite, and it just wasn’t something that was visible. Or maybe it was invisible, born and bred from his mother’s side, but it couldn’t be a druid or a dryad or a kitsune or something like that. It had to be  _something_ , though, something that Derek hadn’t encountered yet, but that existed all the same. But what?

He’d been gathering clues for weeks now, but there were so few. All he knew was what Stiles smelled like, and that he always declined invitations to beach days, or if he did go, simply sat staring at the ocean and never went swimming. Supposedly it was because he had almost drowned in the ocean as a kid and nobody bothered him about that or tried to get him to go in once they heard the story, but Derek knew that that was just an excuse. He didn’t know what Stiles was protecting himself–or others–from, but it had to be something.

He gained another clue one day when they went to the pool, something Stiles would actually swim in. Derek had only–grudgingly–come along at Erica and Boyd and Isaac’s insistence, though Isaac proceeded to spend the entire time initiating splash wars with Scott and flirting with him while Erica and Boyd flirted with each other, but it actually gave him another valuable clue. Because he got to see Stiles swim.

And god, it was beautiful. He was so graceful, so smooth in his movements in a way that jarred and clashed with how clumsy he was on land, elegant in the water in a way that Derek had never seen before. It was amazing to watch, Stiles diving and swimming underwater like he belonged there, like he was made to move through liquid and not air. He could also hold his breath for a ridiculous amount of time, and when Derek timed him on his watch, he was amazed to find that it was close to three minutes before he came up for air.

Surprisingly, no one else seemed to notice. They were too busy laughing and talking among themselves to notice the grace with which Stiles moved, and the fluid and skilled way he swam and stayed under. It was only Derek watching, and he only realized he’d been staring when Stiles turned to give him a slightly puzzled look, and he quickly turned away, going back to pretending to read his book. At least with the sunglasses on it was harder to tell where he’d been looking, but still. No doubt Stiles had noticed at least some of his glances, and the last thing Derek wanted was to make him start to wonder if Derek knew what he was. Which he didn’t, but he wanted to find out.

It was driving him a bit crazy, actually. An obsession blooming from a curiosity, turning into a preoccupation that was making it hard to focus on other things. He just wanted to know that one simple thing, wanted to know what Stiles was and what he was capable of. Though right now, it really didn’t seem like he was capable of much, considering that he’d never seen him use any form of powers, and didn’t seem to have any kind of fast healing capabilities like the others. So what was the purpose of being a creature that wasn’t human if there were no advantages to it? And what  _was he_?

Derek would pace and growl as he considered it, startling his pack members if they found him at it because he’d simply chase them off with a well-placed look. Eventually, he turned to books, poring over old volumes about creature after creature, looking for any sign of something that loved water and smelled like the ocean. But creatures’ scents usually weren’t listed because these books weren’t built for werewolves and the only thing he could find that really loved water was, of course, mermaids. Which he highly doubted Stiles was. 

But as time went on and he noted more of Stiles’s behaviors, he wasn’t sure if that wasn’t it. For one thing, there was the fact that while Stiles was elegant in the water, he was a mess on land. Klutzy and clumsy, like someone who’d gotten off a boat and never lost their sea legs. Derek had kept a keen eye out to see whether Stiles ate fish, feeling ridiculous about it the whole time, only to see him turn his nose up at calamari. So. Maybe not a mermaid then. Though it’d been a ridiculous thought in the first place.

But what was he? What was he what was he what was he–it was definitely an obsession at this point, but he couldn’t help it. Why would Stiles lie to everyone? Why would he hide it from everyone, whatever it was? Even Scott seemed oblivious, and Derek couldn’t understand why Stiles’s best friend wouldn’t know that he wasn’t human. Unless Scott was a better liar than Derek thought he was, but that seemed unlikely. Scott was an overenthusiastic, earnest puppy of a person and really seemed to be trusting Derek nowadays. So if he did know something, and it was important to the pack, then he would have told him, right? But it didn’t seem likely that he knew, even though he was sure that he and the other wolves could catch the same scent on Stiles.

The only other clue that Derek had was that Stiles seemed to have…a natural charm. No, that wasn’t the way to put it, because he was awkward as fuck and couldn’t flirt to save his life. It wasn’t like he had charm, exactly…It was more like he drew people to him. Scott, his friends, Derek’s betas, even Derek himself. He seemed to easily draw attention, have a natural ease to getting what he wanted that Derek had never seen before. It was subtle, so subtle that he didn’t notice it until well into them knowing each other, but once he noticed it, he couldn’t stop. He would analyze every interaction with Stiles, his own as well as others’, to see if it was Stiles being Stiles, or Stiles using some sort of hidden draw to get them to agree with him. Maybe he didn’t even know he was doing it.

Only the little shit did. Derek could tell because one day, in the middle of an argument with Isaac, Stiles seemed to pause, take a deep breath, and when he spoke again, there was something in his words. A pull. Like he was pressing against Isaac’s mind to get the outcome he wanted, and a minute later, he did. Derek watched the whole thing with slightly narrowed eyes, and saw the split second smirk that came onto Stiles’s lips before it disappeared again. Oh yeah, he definitely knew what he was doing, and was getting away with it too, and suddenly Derek wondered how many times he’d gotten away with that with Derek, how many times he’d just been pulled into agreeing with Stiles even though he’d at first opposed him. That manipulative little shit.

And yet Derek couldn’t stay angry at him, mostly because this mystery was taking over his brain. At least, that was what he told himself. Because truly, the closer he looked at Stiles, the more he watched him, the more…the more he started to feel affection for him. To be amused by Stiles’s stubbornness and the little smirks he got when he had his way, rather than irritated by them. He started to catch himself staring more than was technically polite or acceptable, memorizing the constellations of moles and freckles visible on Stiles’s face and neck, wondering what others lay beneath his clothing.

That was usually where he stopped himself, embarrassed because he was fantasizing about an underage–barely though, he reminded himself often–teen who he really shouldn’t have been thinking about in anything other than friendly terms. But he couldn’t help himself. Stiles had that nature allure, that draw, and Derek found that he couldn’t pull himself away. Which only made it harder once he found out what Stiles really was.

He was searching through a bestiary he’d already read through a dozen times when he happened upon it, rereading a passage with glazed over eyes when he found it.  _…have a natural draw, easily capable of seducing mortal woman. Commonly…_ He sat up a bit straighter, looking at the passage again to read it over, see if he was right. If this was something important, or merely some small detail that was a red herring. Something that didn’t matter, and sent him back to square one. But oh, as he kept reading, he realized that this was it, this  _had_  to be it, because everything made sense with this definition, with this classification. And he had to go see Sheriff Stilinski immediately. 

***

“Where’s his skin?”

Derek didn’t bother with any niceties, any pleasantries, simply going straight for it because the Sheriff knew who he was and if he was right about this, he’d know what Derek was talking about. Even if he tried to hide the truth, his pulse would give him away, because while the Sheriff knew about the supernaturals in Beacon Hills, he wasn’t great at lying to them. Probably because most people hadn’t told him that werewolves could hear his pulse to tell if he was lying or not.

For a moment–just a moment–there was a look of pure shock on Stilinski’s face, as if he was realizing that Derek knew. He managed to cover it up almost instantly, but it’d been there all the same, and Derek could hear the uptick in his pulse as he asked, “What the hell are you talking about?”

He tsked, as if scolding the Sheriff gently, and shook his head. “I know, Sheriff. I know what Stiles is.”

The Sheriff merely stared at him as if he’d grown another head, but oh that pulse was beating faster and faster, and he knew that he had him. Derek crowded him against the doorframe, doing his best to loom over him and be the most intimidating he could be, and it seemed to be working. “Does Stiles know what his mother was?” he asked, and Sheriff Stilinski looked like he was going to protest again, deny it, when suddenly he slumped with a sigh.

“Yes,” he said, looking at the ground, rather than at Derek. “He knows. He just thinks he didn’t inherit it.”

“Where’s his skin?” Derek repeated, firmer this time, and the Sheriff’s gaze was almost defensive as he looked at Derek again. Protective, in a way, and Derek was glad to see it, because Sheriff Stilinski had already done enough to hurt Stiles and it needed to stop somewhere.

“Why?” he asked, and his voice was exactly as Derek had wanted it to be, protective, cautious, and overall, unwilling to cooperate. Which he shouldn’t have wanted, but it meant that the Sheriff was doing the right thing, protecting his son as he should have. A good sign, despite the fact that he had kept Stiles in the dark about this for so many years.

“Because I’m going to give it back to him.”

Stilinski started to protest, but was silenced by a look from Derek, who had serious intent in his eyes, and the look of a man who would not be stopped that easily. Who had already made his decision about what was going to happen and was just going to run over anyone who decided to get in his way. 

Because he was determined. This wasn’t fair to Stiles, not telling him what he was and keeping something so important from him, a life that he could be happier in. And he could be much happier, if he returned to the sea, to what he was, what his mother was. If he could experience what it was that Derek was sure had been missing from his whole life, because living on land wasn’t natural for him. Selkies always wanted to return to their seas.

They faced off in silence for a minute, Derek unblinking as he looked at the Sheriff, and after a minute, the other man folded, looking at the ground again. “I buried it,” he answered, and Derek took a step back from him, no longer applying quite so much pressure.

“Okay,” he said. “Where?”

***

“Is it just me, or are there supposed to be other people here?” Stiles asked as soon as he was in the door, having taken a single look around and come to the conclusion that he was the only person present for the “pack meeting”. That was the excuse Derek had used to get him here, and he hadn’t even had to turn around to know that he was here. Stiles’s sunshiney sand scent had carried with him into the loft, and Derek had taken a deep inhale as soon as he realized it, knowing that once Stiles was gone, he was going to miss it. Miss him.

He turned to face him, the box behind him on the table, closed now because he’d already taken his time looking at the contents, running his hands over the seal skin that still seemed faintly wet, like it was fresh from the ocean. Stiles looked so innocent there, caught in the sunlight in his red hoodie with an expectant expression on his face, like he was waiting for Derek to speak, to give him some excuse about the pack meeting, say that everyone else was late or that he’d cancelled it and forgot to tell Stiles or something. He was expecting some innocuous excuse, but that wasn’t what he was about to get. He was about to get the whole truth, the truth that his father had hidden away from him for years because he was so terrified of losing his son as well as his wife. 

Derek opened his mouth, and paused. It wasn’t fair to Stiles, he knew that. He knew that he needed to tell him, needed to give him the choice, needed to, for once, put the power in his hands. 

But he didn’t want to.

Selfishly, he wanted to keep this secret to himself, wanted to keep  _Stiles_  to himself. Wanted to ground him, make sure that he stayed on land and didn’t return to the sea that Derek knew so desperately called to him. The ocean was where Stiles truly belonged, but would he even have a reason to go? He had built a life here, friends, his father, school, everything was here and god Derek wanted to be included on that list of things. He wanted to be one of the reasons that Stiles stayed. But the problem was, he wasn’t the one that got to make that choice.

Unless…

Unless he did something terrible. And in that moment, he knew what he was going to do. 

“I’m in love with you.”

The words tumbled from his lips so easily, so effortlessly, as if they’d been eager and waiting to come out. In a way, they had, and he felt almost relieved that they were out in the air. Because somehow, someway, it was easier to face the thought of Stiles rejecting him than Stiles leaving forever. It was for the good of the pack, wasn’t it? They needed him here, needed the spazzy and klutzy behaviors and comic relief and his diamond sharp wit and mind, and Derek was just doing this for the good of everyone, wasn’t he? Only he knew the truth about that. 

Stiles froze where he was, halfway into the loft and rubbing his hands together, a nervous habit that stopped the second he heard the words from Derek. Derek could hear his heartbeat, hear how it sped up when he first heard the words, then fully processed them. His own sped up in sympathy, in response to the thought that oh god, he actually had to deal with the consequences of those words. Still better than telling Stiles the truth, dealing with those consequences. But it was a cruel thing to keep a selkie from the sea, and if Derek wasn’t already going to hell, this would have really sealed it. 

“You–” Stiles started, then stopped, shaking his head a bit. Those Bambi eyes flashed back up to him, and Derek could have sworn he felt his heart stop. Not fair, that those eyes had that effect on him. Not fair at all. “You’re in love with me.”

It was stated, not asked, but Derek nodded anyway, knowing there was a question in there somewhere, and Stiles nodded to himself after a moment, looking away again. After a minute, he took a step, and Derek had to force himself to stay still, not cross the rest of the distance between them, because it seemed like Stiles was doing that himself anyway. 

One step, two, three, and then a pause before the final step that took him to right in front of Derek, who reminded himself to breathe clean oxygen, and not just that salty, ocean breeze scent coming off of Stiles in waves, as tempting as it was. He wanted to be the shore that Stiles crashed on, but right now he didn’t know what Stiles wanted. Just knew that he was glad in his decision, as awful as he knew it was. 

Clean oxygen wasn’t working. All he was getting was Stiles’s scent, currently stormy, like gusts of wind carrying the scent of the ocean to the people far from the shore as thunderclouds rolled in. And right now Derek thought he was ready for a storm, but that felt less and less likely as Stiles looked at him, those warm brown eyes inscrutable, the silence between them dragging on. Until finally, Stiles leaned up, and kissed him. 

Okay. Okay, okay, not the reaction he’d been expecting, but he was going to take it all the same. He didn’t waste any time in shock, kissing back instantly, the kiss slow, sweet, but simmering just a little bit beneath the surface, a hint of something else that he hadn’t expected to see in Stiles. Or at least, hadn’t expected because he hadn’t expected Stiles to feel this way as well, to feel anything for him in return. Or maybe he just painted Stiles as more innocent than he was. 

After a minute, Stiles pulled back, and Derek opened his eyes to find him smiling at him, something sweet in his eyes, honeyed amber. “Yeah,” he said, and shrugged a casual shoulder. “Me too.” And kissed him again.

And Derek reminded himself to bury the box back where he’d found it. 


End file.
